


Purgatory

by orphan_account



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Decisions, Biting, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Joseph isn't a demon but he is pretty shitty, M/M, Scratching, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the yacht, after the party, Joseph is still there.





	Purgatory

This is a bad idea.

God, this is a bad idea.

The blinds are half-open; next door you can see Joseph's house where Joseph's wife and Joseph's children are asleep, except Joseph is not there because you're naked and on all fours with Joseph knuckle-deep in your ass and Robert's dick halfway down your throat and _god_ , this is a bad idea.

(You're three beers in when Robert sets a shot of whiskey in front of you hard enough that it sloshes. Blearily, you stare up at him; he pushes it towards you.

"So he did it to you too, huh?" Robert says, and slides into the booth across from you.

You remember his warning at the marina, the story Joseph told you on the yacht, the way he acted at the party. You take the whiskey and let it burn you from the inside.)

Joseph adds another finger; you groan around Robert's cock. If you could see the expression on his face, you're not sure what you'd see - the genial and harmless youth minister, or the passionate violence as he had pinned you to the yacht bed, still-healing bruises reminders of his teeth.

But you can look up, briefly, just enough to meet Robert's gaze. He looks lost, distracted, like he's not fucking your mouth; he catches you looking and turns away, discomforted.

("I thought we were both awful," you slur. Robert lets out a fluid shrug.

"Yeah, you are. But I'm pretty terrible, too. He tell you he and Mary were unsalvageable too? That he could see a path to happiness now? That he had a crazy feeling there was someone he could get in the habit of being around?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Word for word.

That _asshole_.)

You lift your head - kind of have to, because Joseph is stretching you out now and it's making your teeth grit hard enough that you're pretty sure Robert wouldn't want his sensitive bits in the firing zone. "When was the last time you were fucked?" Joseph is saying from behind you, tone light and casual to bely the youth-ministry-unfriendly words. "Aside from on the yacht, I mean. God, you were so goddamn tight."

You let your breath hiss out through your teeth. "F-five years. Not si-since Alex. No one since."

Joseph runs the fingers not currently inside you tenderly across your hips, then repeats the gesture and scratches deep. "Think you could get used to this? All spread out for me?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, and nod jerkily, just once.

("And let me guess. He said you could 'reach out' for him whenever you want."

Robert doesn't actually do the air quotes, but they're heavy in his voice. You nod once, miserably.

"D'you want to?"

"I thought he was a bad guy and you didn't like or trust him."

Robert shrugs, and drains the rest of his whiskey. "Yeah. But now you know what he's like, so you can get into it without losing your head. Plus he has a great dick, and you know I'm all about the shit that's bad for me.")

Joseph scratches you again, this time down your back. "Come on, get that cock back in your mouth," he says impatiently, pulling your hair for emphasis. "Get it nice and wet."

Shivering at the scratching and the imperious tone of Joseph's voice, you obey. Get it wet? Is he just going to watch while he has Robert fuck you? You're not sure you have too much of a problem with that - Robert's harsh edges are softer around you; he might have called you awful before but right now, he's your rock.

Clumsily, you reach for one of Robert's hands. He doesn't shake it off, squeezing your fingers.

("So - what, you just do this as a casual thing? What about Mary?"

Robert shakes his head. "She knows. She doesn't care. Main reason she's pissed off is because she knows he's using her for his shitty appearance. Won't even be friends with her, just wants her to be the good Christian housewife." He snorts again. "I think the main reason she gets kind of shitty with all - this - is because she's tryna protect me."

You're still a little lost at all the sexual politics. "But you still do - this."

"Yeah. Like I said. Self-destructiveness.")

Scratches all over your back and hips and thighs, you feel mauled. Joseph's hand fists in your hair and drags you back upwards, a trail of saliva tracing a line from Robert's cock to your lips; you're sure they're swollen.

"Good," he murmurs approvingly. "Good. Robert, lie back."

He does. Wraps his hands around your wrists, guiding you closer. Gives them a squeeze before moving to your stinging hips and guiding you down. You groan despite yourself at the fullness, nothing small about Robert.

"Good," Joseph says again. "Ride him, but don't come until I tell you to. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yeah."

("Come on," Robert says abruptly, standing and tossing some cash on the bar to cover the drinks.

"Where are we going?"

"My place. Your place. Whatever."

Amanda is at home; you swallow thickly. "Your place."

He's watching you as you walk, your head bowed; he looks sad.)

He's watching you as you ride him, your head bowed and teeth gritted; he looks sad.

"Have you ever taken two cocks?" Joseph asks from behind you. You think he might be jerking himself off as you watch. Dazedly, you shake your head, then yelp as you feel a finger slide inside you as well as Robert's dick; you and Robert both groan at the contact. "Would you like to?"

God, this is a bad idea.

You're so hopped up on endorphins and adrenaline and, yes, alcohol that all you can do is nod jerkily.

"Good."

("S'up to you," Robert says, and gets more whiskey for you both, settling beside you on the couch. "You want to go home, that's your choice. You want to crash for the night, also your choice. Or you want to get online and call him over, that's on you too."

"If I call him over," you say, and you can feel the heat from Robert's body this close to him, "What will happen?"

"You'll get fucked."

You're not sure if he's talking about the sex act or life in general.)

If one finger burns, Joseph's cock sliding into you along with Robert's is like a brand. Your fingers dig into the sheets, ragged gasps pushing through your lips, eyes hot with tears.

Robert's hand is on your own. He strokes the back with the tips of his fingers, his teeth gritted.

"So tight," Joseph murmurs approvingly, lowers his head and bites your shoulder hard. "Ride us."

You can barely move, but Joseph catches your hips and buries himself in you anyway.

"Good. Good," Joseph is saying, a steady monologue in that damnably calm youth pastor voice. "You're doing well. You like this, don't you? No romance, no feelings. Just pleasure. Just being held down and fucked like the slut you are. What would the neighbors say if they saw you like this? The whore that intruded in a marriage. No attempt to even have us patch things up if it meant you'd get fucked."

Tears drip down your cheeks, splash onto Robert's stomach. You feel like you're on fire from the inside.

("Here's to bad decisions," you say, and send a message for Joseph to come on over.

Robert doesn't laugh. He sets a hand on your shoulder, then turns and walks away into the bedroom.

This is probably a bad idea.)

Joseph's hands are on your hips, on your shoulders; his fingers creep around your throat. Your eyes go wide; this was playful on the yacht, now it has another meaning behind it.

Punishment, air squeezed from your lungs. You're tingling all over, shivering like you're in a blizzard, burning like you're in hell.

"You like this, don't you?" he whispers, soft as angel feathers, and squeezes.

Tears fall. You nod.

Black stars dance in your vision; vaguely, it occurs to you that he never offered you a safe word. But this was never safe, was it? You're vaguely aware that no one is wearing a condom, you expect that it would bother you if you weren't so close to coming.

Robert's hands on your hands. Joseph's hands around your throat. You're on fire, falling into night. And you're so close, so close to being swept away.

(Joseph is at the door, moonlight on his hair like a halo, brimstone in his eyes. You step back and let him in.)

"Come for me," Joseph whispers, and lets go.

You come so hard that the black explodes into white; you arch your back and let out a cry that rips from your throat. You're half aware of Joseph and Robert both releasing their own climaxes inside you; but you'll worry about that later, crumpling, smearing the mess you made across Robert's belly.

Joseph pulls out; you feel the results of his orgasm drip out across the backs of your thighs. The bed dips as he stands and a moment later, you hear the shower run.

You're gasping softly, eyes still wet with tears, shaking like a leaf. You're filthy and scratched and bruised and bitten; you're pretty sure you won't be able to sit down for about a week.

"It gets easier," Robert says, stroking your hair with unexpected gentleness. "Once you know what to expect. You start to crave it. You get used to it. Being fucked up. Being broken like this."

"Self-destruction," you mutter into his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah." He pets your hair, presses a kiss against your temple. "Welcome to hell. And... I'm sorry."

("It's good to see you again," Joseph says, that bright and shiny youth minister smile on his bright and shiny face, and he stretches out a hand to you.

You take it. You let him lead you into hell.)


End file.
